Is Instaclipsing the Most Evil Social Media Trend?

Instaclipse (insta-klipse) verb: The act of posting a photo to Instagram in which the poster looks markedly better than the other person or persons in the photo, thereby eclipsing them.

Three weeks ago, I, along with three of my coworkers-slash-friends, attended the Taylor Swift concert in New Jersey. (Yes, it was the best.) Like the normal, mature adults that we are, we decided to go whole hog and do it up like we were in the "Bad Blood" video—hair, makeup, and outfits inspired by Catastrophe and her gang—and, of course, documented the whole thing. (Memories are important, right?) We posed for the requisite eight-or whatever photos it takes to get at least one good one, then gathered around to inspect what we were working with.

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"Damn, look at my arm!" Justine marveled, as we zoomed in on her ripped bicep in one of the photos. She looked, we all agreed, absolutely bangin'. I, however, did not. "Oh my God, I look so fat," I interjected. (I know guys, I know, it's fine, we're all our own worst enemies, right?) But Justine posted her guns-blazing shot to Instagram because, again, *bangin'* and when I complained about the totally unflattering and misleading and do-I-really-look-like-that angle at which my body was captured, she offered to take it down. No, I said, it's fiiiine. But I wasn't going to post that version of our photo. Because Justine had totally Instaclipsed me.

Instaclipsing isn't a new phenomenon. Kim Kardashian is a notorious Instaclipser: Every one of her birthday posts shows Kim looking phenomenal, while the birthday guy or gal looks fine—or in some cases just plain not good. And who can blame her? Why would you ever post a photo where you don't look your best—or in this case, The Best. But the problem isn't the photo, it's not admitting you know exactly what you're doing.

A few weeks before the Swiftcident, I was having dinner with a friend who told me she had to show me an Instagram a girl she knew posted from a bachelorette party. The photo showed the girl smiling, looking particularly fetching in a loose tank, tan on fleek, with her arm around the bride-to-be...whose eyes were half-closed. Compared to her back-stabagramming friend, the bride, with her bachelorette sash, appropriately disheveled hair, and wonky mid-blink eyes, looked bad. Like, real bad. The Instaclipsing was almost egregious. I nearly choked on my sushi.

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Instaclipsing happens so regularly, it's hard to notice. But when it's so overt that you choke on your sushi, it's downright offensive. Recently, I texted a screenshot of an Instagram that a "friend" (just kidding, she actually is my friend, just on my Instashit list) posted where she looked fab, while I, mid-laugh, sport a double chin. "Reaaaaally?" I wrote. "What?" she replied. "You look cute!" I did not look cute. Which I explained, using a red arrow to point out the double chin. "Noooo, it's cute!" she said again. "And I need to post more pics for Hinge LOL."

And hey, I've been an Instaclipser too. When I went to choose which photo I wanted to post from the Taylor Swift concert, I bypassed Justine's glorious muscle moment, and chose a pic where I thought I looked good. (Yeah, I'm making a weird face, but did you see the one up there?!?) When she called me out for it, I think I gave her a "No, you look cute!" before I admitted that yeah, she doesn't look great. But... I love her? I just...yeah. Let's be real, I wanted to post the photo where I look good.

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